Improvisation
by The Narrator
Summary: CHAPTER SIX UPDATE. "Go and live the rest of your cowardly life." The problem with his good advice is that it was exactly the wrong thing to tell her. Yako decides to do something about the New Bloodline on her own terms instead.
1. Subject

**This fanfic is a spoiler for chapter 183 of the manga.** It will likely be rendered divergent from canon by the next chapter, but I had to write it anyway. I wanted to see what I could do with Yako's character after Neuro has cut her loose.  
_**

* * *

Improvisation**_

_Part 1: Subject

* * *

_

Forcibly ejected from his messy cubicle in the Metro Police's Special Computer Crimes Task Force office after a 36-hour shift with orders to get some sleep, Higuchi stumbled into his dark, cramped apartment after nearly breaking his nose because he forgot to open the door first. He was so tired, he doubted an IV of pure caffeine could keep him awake. Only just managing to kick off his sneakers in the stoop, he fell face-first on his musty futon, his shoulder bag dribbling to the floor, the precious hardware inside cushioned by the soft layer of dirty laundry.

*tap!tap!*

"Nrgh…" Higuchi grunted into his pillow.

*_pin-pon!pin-pon!*_

"Fhrmmmmmm…" He pulled the pillow over his head, willing the noise to stop.

*tap!tap!TAP!_pin-pon!pin-pon!_BANG!BANGBANG**BANG**!!*

"EURAGHSFT… _WHAT_?!" the sleep-deprived hacker howled, pushing himself upright as the soon-to-be-dead idiot outside kept banging on his door as if for dear life. He yanked the door open, desperately wishing he was allowed to carry a handgun.

It took approximately five seconds for his burned-out faculties to recognize the person standing in the doorway, backlit by mind-achingly white streetlamps. "Katsura-?"

Yako pushed past him into the apartment without so much as a "by your leave," pulling the door firmly shut behind her, plunging them once more into deep gloom.

"Um…?" Higuchi blurted as she shuffled off her school shoes and stepped up into his bedroom/kitchenette/home office.

"Higuchi-san, are you positive you can't remember how to make the Electronic Drug?" she asked in tense voice, not even bothering to turn around.

"Uh… if I did, I wouldn't admit it," he replied, befuddled, bewildered, and more than a little flummoxed at the young detective's intrusion into his private sanctum. "Why…?"

"All I want to know is if you can make it or not!" she shouted, whirling on him.

It did not take light to see that she had been crying – her voice was raw with it. He recalled her subdued manner at Sasazuka's funeral; not one tear, but also not one word spoken to another person. She had looked like a zombie, but then, he heard she had actually seen Sicks murder Sasazuka. Having no clue how to approach her, he had let her keep her peace, certain Neuro would shake her out of it when the time came. But now…

"Depends," he said guardedly, not certain if she was going to dissolve into tears or fly at him; he had never seen her so close to breaking, and he really did not like it. "If you let me in on what you and Neuro want to…"

"Neuro." Yako uttered a strangled sound like a cross between a laugh and a sob. "He's got nothing to do with this. Not with me. Not anymore." Her fisted hands flew to her face, her body trembling violently, a wire stretched to its limit.

Higuchi's first instinct was to back away slowly; he had enough trouble dealing with his own emotional issues, so he was hardly qualified to deal with another person's hysterics. But then he reminded himself that _this_ other person was Katsuragi Yako, and he owed her. That, and he had the door at his back, and the damn thing opened _inwards. _He reached out awkwardly, touching her bony shoulder, intending to mutter some comforting nonsense, but the girl surged forward, slamming him back into the door. Skinny arms wrapped around him so tightly he would have been unsurprised if one or more of his ribs cracked.

"Sssshhhhh…" she hissed into his chest, hot wetness from her cheeks seeping through his shirt. She shivered, hiccupped, buried her face deeper into his chest. Now extremely out-of-sorts, Higuchi did the only logical thing: he put his arms around her, one awkwardly enclosing her tiny waist, the other across her shoulder-blades, fingers twining into her cropped hair.

He could practically hear the analog clock ticking away the minutes that they stood there, wordless, soundless except for Yako's occasional shuddering gasp for breath. He found himself smoothing the downy hairs at the nape of her neck, a soothing gesture he remembered from the odd nursery school attendant too many years ago. Her heart thudded against his body, a hyperactive _beat-beat-beat_ that, if he had been doctor or medic, would have inspired great concern.

Eventually, Yako's shudders subsided, her breathing quieted, and her heartbeat faded to a normal murmur. She peeled herself off of Higuchi, who remained where he was, apprehensive of touching off another episode.

"So…" she began thickly, after a painfully pregnant pause, "can you?"

"I don't know," he said. Taking a deep breath, he added, "What's up, Katsuragi? What do you mean Neuro's got nothing to do with you anymore?"

To his relief, she did not dissolve into another fit of hysterics. "He… I…I quit. Or he threw me out, whichever works for you." She clenched her arms around herself, speaking rapidly in a voice hardly above a whisper: "I saw Sasazuka get shot in the head and I couldn't do anything; I couldn't do anything to keep Oji-s… Honjou-san from committing suicide, I couldn't…!"

Higuchi braced himself for another attack, but Yako quieted abruptly. "Neuro's solution was to tell me to quit, to live out my cowardly life because I couldn't handle seeing people die in front of me anymore." She paused, laughed lowly, painfully. "And he's right – I blame him, I blame me for getting my friends killed. But I'm not going to let _him_ win; I'm going to make sure Sicks and Sai can't hurt anymore people."

Higuchi stared at her, the outline of her form only now visible through the gloom. She could not possibly be saying that… "And how does me pulling the Electronic Drug from the ether help you do that?"

Yako tilted her head, as if in puzzlement. "Why don't we sit down," she said, and the toneless courtesy, not to mention her apparent belief she had the run of his apartment, threw him for another loop. By the time he got a grip on the sudden veer in the flow of this surreal conversation, Yako had already occupied his futon, leaving him his computer chair. "Please, sit, Higuchi-san."

Choosing to take her polite gesture for what it was worth, Higuchi dropped into the chair, swiveling around to face her. His fingers automatically tapped the keyboard, waking his desktop from hibernation. The lurid glow from the screen filled the room, blanketing them in washed-out blue-white illumination. Yako looked terrible, drained and defeated, but there was a strange light in her otherwise dead eyes. Higuchi toyed with the glasses perched on his forehead, suddenly even less certain of how to deal with the erstwhile high-school detective.

"Sai once used a modified Electronic Drug on me," Yako said, launching right into the conversation as though reading from a static script. "She used it to control me, and also to bring out whatever fighting capabilities I possessed without even knowing, in order to kill Neuro. I want you to modify the Electronic Drug so I can tap into those abilities again. I will use them to fight Sai and Sicks."

Instead of telling her right off the bat she was certifiable (which she was, to announce such a suicidal plan in such a blasé manner), Higuchi gave her a long, hard look. Even if she was being as painfully upright as usual, he could not help but think she was hiding something from him. "Say I can do this, modify the Electronic Drug and make you Neo-Yako, how do you think you're going to find Sicks and Sai, if Neuro and all the police in Japan can't?" he asked, managing to sound quite reasonable, in his opinion. "Also, you can't expect to beat either of them alone with just your bare hands, no matter how much the Electronic Drug amps up your "innate" skills."

"Don't worry, I have an idea how to take care of that," she answered in a tone just short of dismissive, "If Godai-san can't help, I know… other people who can."

"Oh?" Higuchi had not meant to sound so condescending, but Yako's calm confidence was downright grating, not to mention a little eerie, considering her earlier display.

(If that was how he appeared to other people when showing off his computer skills, small wonder his elders got pissed. Not that he was considering adjusting his attitude anytime soon.)

"I think you're better off not getting too involved, Higuchi-san," she said, the raw quality of too many tears shed overtaking her for just a moment, "Just… give me the Drug, and I'll take care of the rest."

Higuchi blinked; was she thinking about _him_ dying in the same way as Sasazuka? Ridiculous. But if so… would it affect her as much, his death? A strange swell of emotion made him look away quickly. To cover it, he typed in his password and began riffling through the various programming files scattered through his harddrive. "Usui's brainwashing was pretty intensive," he mentioned, hardly believing it was his own voice, "but like any computer, bits and pieces of data are left behind, if you look hard enough."

Yako gasped softly, sitting bolt-upright on the bed. "You… you'll help me?" she breathed.

"No promises," Higuchi said, pretending to be fixated on his computer, fingers tapping out a staccato dance on the keyboard. Of course, he was not actually going to help her commit suicide. Of course, when and if he ever resurrected the Electronic Drug, she would come to her senses. Of course, Neuro and Usui and the police would have dealt with the New Bloodline for good by then.

Of course. This was just to keep her calm, give her something to work through until then.

There was nothing to worry about…

---

_Variation 1_

The problem was, he decided, that once you got a slave well-trained to the point they actually became a useful tool, it was next to impossible replacing them. Yako… no, that _lower being not even worth giving a name to_ (mainly because even he could not think of an appropriately execrable appellation for her), well, he should be able to find another like her, spineless and open for careful manipulation.

But the time – _there_ was the rub. It took time, that most precious of resources other than daemonic energy, time he did not have, to take scummy clay and make it useful. The papers sprawled across his crimson-lacquered desk went flying with one spasmodic sweep of his arm as he dropped heavily into his chair.

Unbidden, his eyes rested on the small desktop she sometimes used.

(A drunk wobbling down the sidewalk under a certain detective agency's window yelped in fright as a complete PC fell from the sky, dashing magnificently to pieces at his feet.)

He ignored Akane's fretful twitching and steepled his long fingers together, staring blankly out at the night-cloaked building across the way, trying to think…

* * *

**A/N: **Oh yeah, did I mention I am a sneaky Higuchi x Yako shipper?


	2. Impromptu

_**Improvisation**_

_Part 2: __Impromptu_

"Godai-san?"

Godai hurriedly shoved the dirty magazine behind him and sat back against the park bench as Yako approached, carrying a small basket of apples.

That was his first clue that something was not right.

"It's been a while, ne," she said, tucking her skirt under her legs (not her school skirt – it was Sunday, after all) and sitting down. She set the basket between them. "I'm glad I caught you out of the office."

"Um, yeah…" Godai agreed distractedly, staring at the apples, trying to figure out what was so wrong with them that Yako the Glutton would not touch them. Had Neuro dipped them in poison, infected them with some virus, or shoved bugs into them, and then forced Yako to bring them on pain of torture? Was it because the monster was seeking to punish him on one of his too-few breaks from the madhouse of the data-mining company?

"Has… has Neuro been to see you?"

"What?"

"Godai-san, there's nothing wrong with the apples," she said tiredly, picking one up. There was a small ceramic paring knife in the basket as well; she used this to peel the thick dusky red skin from the apple, revealing perfectly white, glistening flesh beneath. The sweet smell tickled Godai's nose, and his stomach growled appreciatively. Bachelor tough-guy habits died hard – even though he was "in charge" of a company, his default menu was limited to whatever pre-packed _onigiri_ or _bento_ he happened to pick up at the convenience store. All the same…

"You take the first bite," he said, trying not to drool.

Yako sighed. "I'm not really hungry…"

"Bullshit!" Godai cursed more out of surprise than anger, but Yako nearly jumped off the bench, the apple flying from her hand.

The denuded fruit thunked softly on the dirt and lay there, pathetically inert.

"What the fuck's up with you?" he asked, more than a little perturbed by the way Yako simply selected another apple and began peeling as if nothing as catastrophic as food going to waste had happened.

"Sorry…" she murmured, methodically turning the apple as the skin came away in one long, thick ribbon. "Here, Godai-san, I just picked this up in the Marushoku across the street, Neuro… Neuro hasn't had a chance to mess with them." She cut out a good-sized wedge, extracting the tough fibrous core and dark seeds with deft movements that spoke of years of technique.

Godai snorted faintly and took the section of apple. "I mean it, Detective, what the hell's up with you?" he demanded again. A few seconds of ferocious mental gear-spinning later, he added, "What, you still depressed over that cop?"

Yako's shoulders twitched and she bowed her head, bangs veiling her eyes. "I can't help it… he was right there and I couldn't…"

"If you hadn't had that wall between you and Sicks, you wouldn't be sitting here feeling sorry for yourself," Godai pointed out with ruthless logic. "It had nothing to do with you – the idiot chose to go up against Sicks and Sai on his own and he lost. End of story."

"It's hardly that cut-and-dry, Godai-san," she said lowly, so that he almost did not hear her.

"Suit yourself," he tossed off, shoving the piece of apple into his mouth. It was good, sweet and a little tart, and, so far as he could tell, completely untampered with. He chewed and swallowed, accepted the next piece she proffered. "Feeling sorry for him or yourself ain't gonna bring him back."

"That's true," Yako agreed neutrally, staring at the remaining half of apple, "That's why I've decided to do what I can to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else."

Godai cleaned a bit of apple from his teeth with the nail of his pinky finger. Something was definitely wrong with the young detective, and it was not just depression or lack of sleep. For some reason, it mattered to him to find out.

"Hey, Yako…"

"Godai-san, I was hoping you could find a couple things out for me," Yako interrupted, handing him a folded piece of notebook paper.

Godai opened the page and skimmed the list. "Neuro already told me to check a couple of these things out, but why do you need to find one of Harukawa's old supercomputers? The police had those destroyed months ago."

"Maybe, maybe not, but could you please check?" Yako asked, handing him the knife and the apple. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed away the traces of juice from her palm.

Godai stared at her. Was it his imagination, or did she look more frail than usual, hollowed out and exhausted? "What's going on, Yako?"

"It's to fight the New Bloodline, that's all that matters, right?" she returned, her voice and eyes hard. She blinked, noticing his surprised look. "If you could, when Neuro sees you next… can you not tell him about this?"

Godai was on full alert now: Yako, hiding things from Neuro? Was she nuts? "Yako…"

"My new cell number's on the bottom of the page – please call it if you get something, the old one's… no good anymore," she said quickly, turning to go. "Bye, Godai-san, the rest of the apples are yours. Thanks for your help!"

"Oi, wai- !"

Being able to run away that fast _had_ to be a side-effect of working for Neuro. Godai looked down at the paper in his hand. "… Dammit."

---

_Variation 2_

He looked about disdainfully. When it came to his personal space, he was meticulous; while others might only see chaos, he saw an intricate system, one where he could access any required item at any given moment. This… habitat… of hers: Entropy wrapped Indifference, given a good beating by Ineptitude.

Further proof he had tolerated her for _much_ longer than even his frightfully generous nature should have allowed.

Take the desk tucked under the window: littered with crinkled cellophane _senbei_ wrappers gone stale, juice bags sucked dry and forlorn thin cardboard boxes emptied of chocolate-covered biscuit sticks, among other things. He riffled through the detritus, seeking what he had come for, jerking open the small drawers and discarding them and their jumbled contents on the floor.

Not there. He should be able to sense it, even if it was buried under an avalanche; it was _his_, after all.

Glass cracked plaintively under the sole of his shoe. Annoyed, he lifted his foot and glared down at the offending bit of trash: a photograph, her and her mother and the man whose murder had brought him here from Hell. She held a black tube across her chest as if it was a precious thing, staring at the camera, half-exhilarated, half-afraid. Both her mother and father, on the other hand, radiated joy and pride in their spawn, their arms enveloping her in a way that looked to feel so very different from how he…

He kicked it away under the bed, heard the frame shatter against the wall, bits of glass doubtless scattering in a way guaranteed to make reaching under the bed a hazardous proposition.

Good.

He narrowed his eyes, taking in the disheveled drawers and closet. "Akane, where are you?" he said, beyond irritated.

A soft rustle came to him in reply from the bottom of the closet. He threw aside a much-abused cream-colored sweater and located her black school bag.

The tip of a braided lock of ebony hair twitched at him from the side pocket.

"There you are," he muttered, sliding cellphone and secretary out of the bag. His errand completed, he turned to leave.

"Ah!"

He stopped short, blinking at the woman in the doorway, who stared back at him with equal surprise. "Okaa-sama!" he greeted in an eager boyish voice, sliding his cheerful mask seamlessly into place. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Oh, yes… Nougami-san," Katsuragi Haruka replied, sounding relieved. "Since before Valentine's, ne?"

He continued to smile, irritation rapidly mounting; why was he lingering here, making nice? There was no need for it anymore, not since…

"Oh, she must have left her cellphone," the woman was saying. She laughed briefly and shook her head. "She must be so distracted by the case to have done that. How nice of you to come and get it for her."

"Sensei's always forgetting things," he chirped through grit teeth, "She's always sending me out to fetch things for her, no matter how tired I am."

She nodded sympathetically. "Poor Yako-chan, she was all out of sorts when she came home a couple days ago. It almost reminded of the time when… well, that nice policeman had helped her out so many times, I suppose it was only natural." She swiped a stray bit of moisture from her eyes and beamed at him. "I worry about her, but when she has work to do, she becomes more alive. So, thank you very much, and please keep looking out after her."

He stared at her, uncomprehending. "She told you she's working on a case?" he asked slowly.

"Why yes! She said it was so important that she would be gone for a few days, but that I wasn't to worry." She looked at him, eyebrows raised in slight confusion. "Is something the matter?"

"No, nothing. I must be getting back to sensei. Have a good evening, okaa-sama."

"Have a good evening as well. Could you please tell Yako-chan to call me before I leave for Taiwan tomorrow?"

"Certainly."

Haruka saw him out to the door, and did not notice the cellphone discarded on the floor of her daughter's room.


	3. Sequence

_**Improvisation**_

_Part 3: Sequence

* * *

  
_

Hayasaka Hisanori surveyed the girl seated across from him through sharp eyes veiled his ever-present blank smile. She perched uncomfortably on the black suede couch, hands folded primly in her lap. If she thought anything of the various dark patches that stained the furniture, she made no comment, gave no outward sign.

To be completely honest, she gave no outside sign of reacting to anything, not even the three silent, hulking henchmen who had escorted her into this inner sanctum of Smiling Face, Ltd., her sallow poker-face as much an impenetrable mask as his smile. When and where she happened to acquire such gravitas would have intrigued him under most other circumstances, but unfortunately for her, she had caught him on a bad day.

It had been a string of bad days, ever since Yukinori…

The smiling mask cracked for a second.

"Where is Yuki-san?" she asked softly, glancing around. Something about the way she did it told him she had an idea, though how she could have found out…

"What do you want, Ms. Detective?" he purred, anger threading icily through his gentle voice.

"I'm not a detective anymore," she stated without hesitation. "However, I still have business to settle with the New Bloodline and I would like your help."

"Help?" Hisanori echoed derisively, his smile warping momentarily into a cruel sneer.

"Maybe that's the wrong word for it." He raised an eyebrow at her. "I would like to hire you to acquire… a few things for me, so that no one knows about it."

She was behaving downright odd, like she did not care a whit that at any second, he might snap his fingers and have her tossed out, beaten up, disposed of (as he was considering). It was not composure, no, but something else quite… familiar.

"That's what my company does," he said, leaning forward slightly. "But there's always a price for our services."

There was a knock at the door; one of his assistants came in, bearing a tray with a miniscule slice of Castella cake and cup of coffee. This was set down in front of Yako, who proceeded to ignore it completely. "I can't pay you cash up front, but you know my record on repaying loans," she said, with a trace of bitter irony. "But I think I can offer you a better sort of payment."

"Really?" In spite of himself, Hisanori was intrigued…

* * *

**_Variation 3_**

"Akane, the property value of this real estate in Kato was purchased at too high a price, by two separate companies. Backtrack through their records, see if either or both are in any way linked to Hexas or Green-X."

His secretary waved in acknowledgement and began tapping away at the keyboard pulled up in front of her wall. She paused, twisting inquisitively, when he stood and began stalking toward the door.

"Today, I find a replacement slave…"

* * *

**A/N: **Short chapter is short - which is why you get TWO chapters posted today!


	4. Accompaniment

_**Reader be warned: **_Chapter contains use of the f-bomb, courtesy of Godai. Proceed at your own discretion.

_**

* * *

Improvisation**_

_Part 4: Accompaniment

* * *

  
_

Higuchi looked at the map displayed on his cellphone's touchscreen, raised a dubious eyebrow, then regarded the intimidating reinforced steel gate in front of him. He frowned. "Stupid sat-nav app," he muttered, tapping at the screen to exit the window. He was going to have to return this cellphone; the GPS had to be on the fritz, if it said Yako was going to meet him _here._

A call came in just as he re-entered the address. _Unknown caller_. He answered anyway. "Yeah?"

Yako's voice, slightly distorted by static, came over the line: "Higuchi-san, were you able to… oh wait, I see you!"

Higuchi whirled about instinctively, scanning the vicinity, trying to figure out where the hell Yako could hide in this posh neighborhood with all of its high-falutin', walled _mansions…_

Yako carried on, apparently oblivious, "Hang on… Yuka-san, he's here, can you…?" The gate blurted an electronic buzz and unlocked itself with a heavy, metallic _clunk_, startling him slightly. Raising a second dubious eyebrow, Higuchi pushed on one of the wide bars. The gate swung back invitingly on silent hinges and he wandered onto the property.

Looking up at the honest-to-goodness Western-style _mansion_, he got the idea the place ought to have some sort of guard dog patrolling the environs. It seemed a good idea to not waste time dawdling, the haul to the front porch leaving him slightly winded. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door opened.

"Hey, Katsu… you're not Katsuragi," he observed of the female that emerged from the house, black shoulder bag hanging from one arm, the other trailing a small wheeled suitcase colored bright lime-green.

"Obviously," said the tall, crop-haired young woman, coolly appraising him with black-rimmed eyes. She blew out a bubble of gum and snapped it back in.

'…_Panda-girl,'_ he thought, trying to figure out if she was suffering from massive sleep-deprivation or had simply gone overboard on the goth-eyeliner.

'_Computer geek,' _Eshiya Yuka diagnosed, eyes flicking over Yako's friend from head-to-toe, noticing the well-worn, oversized laptop carrier slung over his shoulder and across his chest, and his completely unstylish clothes. She shrugged. Yako's weird taste in men was her own business; just look at her assistant!

"Higuchi-san, hi!" Yako called, hurrying down the stairs and across the foyer, "Eshiya Yuka-san, this is my friend, Higuchi Yuuya-san." The pair so named merely stared silently at each other, neither being much for conventions of etiquette. Yako smiled awkwardly. "So, um… anyway, can he come in, Yuka-san?"

"I wasn't stopping him," Yuka replied sullenly, but complied by waving Higuchi in.

Yako, reading the tenseness between her two socially-awkward acquaintances, began chatting as Higuchi stepped out of his shoes, "Did you know the house belonged to Eshiya Touga-sensei, the famous artist? Yuka-san's his daughter and she inherited it after…um, long story, but she's is letting me stay in her house while she's in Hokkaido with…"

"Like he cares," Yuka interrupted sharply, two spots of crimson flaring on her cheeks like hives. "Just don't be doing anything too kinky here while I'm gone, okay? This is just a favor for…"

The sudden blare of a car horn interrupted her, much to Higuchi's relief. "That's my ride," Yuka said, half-eager, half-apprehensive, her cool demeanor completely dissipating as she zeroed in on the black sedan taxi pulled up in front of the gate. "Yeah, so… have fun you two. And Yako-chan, I want that stuff out of my basement by the time I get back."

"No problem," Yako said cheerfully, although Higuchi could swear he spotted a bit of a tic in her smile. She waved goodbye as Yuka trundled down the wide pathway to the gate. An older man with unwashed, shoulder-length hair met her at the curb, beaming at Yuka in a way the struck Higuchi as slightly off. Yuka seemed to be demanding something of him, jabbing her finger into his chest. That much Higuchi saw before Yako closed the door, leaving the couple to the privacy of the open street.

"He's probably going to try and sit on her on the way to the airport," Yako muttered, shaking her head as she turned from the door, "I don't know how that dynamic works at all!"

Higuchi weighed asking what the hell she meant by that surreal comment against living on in uncomplicated ignorant bliss. "What're you keeping in her basement?" he asked.

Yako's carefree act dropped at his words. "It's something to help you with the Electronic Drug," she said quietly.

"Um, yeah, about that," Higuchi said, suddenly uncomfortable with the way Yako was looking at him, "I _did_ say that I might not remember, and…"

"Then it won't hurt just to take a look at it – I think you'd be interested anyway," she said, sliding back into her customary easy-going nature in a way that reminded Higuchi disturbingly of Neuro's "nice boy" façade. _'Who knows what else she's picked up from that guy?'_ he thought, following her warily down one hallway to another and another, each less adorned with statements of culture and wealth than the last.

One last turn, down an ill-lit, concrete corridor, brought them to a blank, whitewashed door, which Yako opened without pause, pulling on a thin chord hanging inside. Butter-yellow light revealed a series of steps descending into the cool, fluorescent-lit space below. A puff of musty air brought with it the familiar smell of ozone and the whisper-whir of electronics.

"Katsuragi, wha…?" Higuchi asked, following her down the steps. His eyes widened as he took in the room, dominated by a massive black shape that he recognized a little too well. "That's can't be…!"

"It's not," Yako assured him, "Neuro destroyed Harukawa-sensei's supercomputers, but a certain government organization was able to cobble together the pieces. Apparently, they have their own reasons to harness the Electronic Drug, but they've been unsuccessful so far." A grim smile creased her lips as she looked at the forbidding device. "An… acquaintance of mine thought it was a great joke on Neuro, to bring it here and tell me that. This one is just a copy of the copy, so there are probably all sorts of holes in the data. But since we're not looking to resurrect HAL, that won't be a problem for you, right?"

Higuchi stared at the featureless black hulk, and found himself strangely excited by the challenge she had presented him. He had been the one to improve on Harukawa's genius by creating the super-Electronic Drug, even if Usui had done all he could to squelch that knowledge out of him. And this thing… it had no outside connections, so there was no danger of the Drug spreading. What if he _could_ do what Yako asked, thus solidifying his own genius once and for all?

"No problem," he said, smirking at her.

* * *

**_Variation 4_**

"What the fuck do you want?" Godai snarled as _that monster_ entered his office, quite literally brushing off the assistants who tried to stop him, sending them flying into the wall behind him.

He smiled broadly and clamped his steel-claw hand on Godai's upper-arm. "Is slave Number One thinking he can act disrespect his master just because he is in this office which his master generously bestowed upon him?" he asked gently, getting right into Godai's face.

A vessel in Godai's forehead throbbed as sweat sheened his skin. "Get outta here before he uses you to break something else," he told his underlings, nervously shuffling just outside his office door. They gratefully abandoned him, slamming the door shut and leaving him alone with the monster.

'_Fucking cowards,'_ Godai thought bitterly, before turning back to the monster. "Why am I Slave Number One all of sudden?" he demanded, "What happened to Ya- _URGH!"_

"Oh my, they don't build desks like they used to," the monster observed in surprised voice, picking Godai up by the scruff of the neck to examine the face-sized dent in the desktop. "You should talk to a professional carpenter – keeping up appearances as an executive of such a big company is _so_ important."

Godai swallowed a stream of blistering invectives with great reluctance, settling for a ferocious glare at the monster still dangling him in mid-air as easily as he would a kitten. "So, what is it?" he grumbled, rubbing his nose to see if it was broken.

The monster's face spasmed with an expression Godai had since learned was "extreme annoyance." "I am having difficulty finding a replacement slave," he admitted after a long pause.

"No shit, I can't imagine why…" Godai commented sarcastically (and unwisely). The rest of his scathing observation was absorbed by the monster's left shoe as it rammed itself into his mouth.

The monster looked boredly down at the man on the floor, pinned by his foot like an insect to card. "I wasn't finished. You, Slave Number One, are going to procure one for me, since I don't have the time."

Godai stared up at him in disbelief, four things occurring to him simultaneously:

**Firstly**: that he was going to have to kill Yako for whatever it was she did to make the monster "promote" him to "Slave Number One."

**Secondly: **that being the monster's pimp was all sorts of wrong.

**Thirdly:** that he had no clue how to "procure" a slave, short of taking an ad out in the paper or abducting some hapless victim.

**Fourthly:** (and this most importantly) that if he did not succeed, the police probably would not have enough little baggies to store the bits and pieces of his corpse.

Life was so very, very unfair.

* * *

**A/N: **Gee, I wonder why it is Neuro didn't simply call Godai to the office and instead went looking for him. Could it be that he is avoiding the office for some reason? 83


	5. Bridge

_**Improvisation**_

_Part 5: Bridge

* * *

_

I can hear them, making noises around me that are probably conversations, only I can't seem to understand a word. It's just noise. There's something terribly wrong with this, wrong with _me_, that I can't seem to care.

All I can think about is that I don't know what I'm doing.

Oh, I have a plan, of sorts. I've even recruited help from friends, allies, people-who-are-enemies-under-any-other-circumstance. There's a part of me that wants to rub it in _his_ face, that I _can_ indeed accomplish something without his "encouragement." It's the same part of me that teaches me cunning I never knew I had, telling me to change where I sleep every night, telling me to strip off my school uniform before I leave the campus, to duck into a new route to where I'm going.

It tells me that Neuro is Sicks' prey, and that if Sicks mistakenly thinks to use me the way Sai did, it will not go well for me at all.

Unfortunately, this part, this voice, only thinks to speak on occasion. Most of the time, I feel like I'm stumbling in a numb haze of grey, where time passes in fits and starts. And I don't like the fits, because that's when I can see things happen again, like a demonically malfunctioning VCR, rewinding and replaying things I would give up eating to never see again:

Levees buckling under the weight of rain and river, walls of water wiping out thousands of lives in one stroke.

A spear made from a tree falling from the sky and tearing apart metal as it strikes.

Bodies of men turned mindless slaves, exploding at their master's word.

Sasazuka-san, looking at me as I strain through bars, looking so very regretful before the bullet breaks him open.

Honjou-san, weeping, standing on the rail, a number "6" burned into his flesh as he confesses to me in order to die.

Sicks, sparing me because he knows it's crueler than killing me.

Neuro, cutting my name off the sign and severing his ties with me for being a coward.

I shrink away, plunging, panicked, back into the fog where things don't hurt and I don't have to remember. Even the outside voices fade and it goes dark around me, and finally, the part of me that fights, the part that even Sicks hasn't got at yet, speaks to me:

'_Still feeling sorry for yourself? Still asking "What am I going to do"? I almost wish Neuro was here to slam you up into the ceiling again.'_

Leave me alone. I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't know what to do anymore. You do what you want.

'… _it's very annoying, fighting with you when you're like this. You know what I'm asking of you is insane, and you're going along with it anyway because you don't care. Hell, the only reason Neuro ever put up with you is that you NEVER __**STOPPED**__ CARING!!'_

I don't care, I don't, I don't want to, leave me alone! I don't know what to do!

'_Keep telling yourself that. Letting me take control, you'll die very soon. Is that what you want?'_

… not really, but…

'_How do you think you're going to win, if you don't care?'_

Who said anything about winning? Why am I even doing this? It's not my fight!

' "_It's no my fight"?! How is it not? You're human, aren't you? You've had people taken from you by these bastards, haven't you? You know Neuro's going to fight them no matter what, and __**he's**__ a demon! What's the point of all your anger, all your tears, all your helplessness, if you're not going to do something about it?'_

No point. There's no point to any of it. Unless…

'_Exactly. So, are you going to snap out of it?'_

But I'm so tired. I can't just… I'm too…

"Miss Detective… Wake up, Miss Detective… It's already nighttime."

Who's calling? This voice, don't I know…?!

The fog is gone, the other voices are gone, there's only one person here with me, in this place (my classroom) where the white lights overhead make the darkness outside perfect.

This other person…

"Good morning," Aya-san says, smiling at me. She says something else, but I don't catch it, not because I'm running away, but because I am simply too surprised.

'_Well,'_ sniffs that part of me, _'It's a bit of a flashy way of doing things, but at least now, you're paying attention.'_

_

* * *

_

_Bridge (Variation 5)_

Contrary to what Akane thinks, I am not avoiding the office. I decide to ignore her impertinent text message, flipping the cellphone shut as I riffle through dust-diseased papers that record the minutiae of human activities. Archives, going back a mere century, deemed of too little use to the current gnat-brained generation of humans for their perceived age. I have been here before, at night, after the toilet-rag sluffed home and weak-willed night security can be sent away with the precise application of demonic influence.

Sicks and his ilk have bragged of the prolonged existence of their line, of its penetration of the shadows of human society, of its hold over the tides of time and power, of their own invincibility. Farcical and vain illusions, I tore them apart the same way I ripped apart those underlings Sicks dispatched. However, the Mystery still exists, no matter how blithely the vaunted tales spill from their corrupted lips: the Nature and Purpose of the New Bloodline. For all the subscription to the belief that they are superior to other humans, they still must use humans as tools in order to survive, until Sicks makes his vision reality. And to do so, they leave marks, a trail, a pattern. To use tools to achieve an end is to apply cold logic and at the end of this Logic, I will find the Mystery and destroy that smug bastard.

_'You don't get it.'_

Not again.

_'You don't get it, Neuro.'_

It seems I have allowed myself to drain my energies too far. It is ever so much more frustrating to do these things on my own when…

_' "It'd be great if we never met each other!"'_

The data is here; all I have to do is…

_'She's never coming back, you know.'_

Shut up.

_'How ridiculous: the Devourer of All the Mysteries of Hell, scrounging around in a dark human basement surrounded by dry dust, __**haunted**__ by the Idea of…'_

I said, **SHUT UP!**

The file cabinet falls over (and crashes into the wall) because it is old and was ready to fall apart anyway.

'_It makes me wonder. What sort of mystery is she chasing after, now that you've thrown her away?'_

It was a lie. She told a lie to her mother.

'_Oh?'_

It was a lie. End of story.

_'What reason did she have to lie? And why was her room so cold and empty and stale when you entered?'_

There was trash aplenty, a perfect habitat for a dirty little pig like her.

_'You're not even curious?'_

Not in the least bit.

_'… I suppose that's that, then.'_

Quite.

"Hey, what are you doing down here?"

There is another here, another feeble human, staring half-blind in what he sees as darkness. He is a flaccid creature, pale and stringy from too much time among books and Ideas.

"Only archivists and interns are allowed down here," he continues in trembling indignation, but he steps toward me all the same, arms comically wide as though he is going to shoo me away.

Foolish courage. Wavering righteousness. These things should not make me happy, (_'They are only a pale shade of __**her**__…'_) but all the same…

"There's no need for that; from now on, you will be my slave."

"… excuse me?"

* * *

**A/N: **As expected, chapter 185 has rendered this fic AU, but hey - at least now, things are getting REALLy interesting in the manga. I hope my fic stays just as interesting.


	6. Cadenza

_**Improvisation**_

_Part 6: Cadenza

* * *

_

Aya followed Yako into the mansion, taking in the essence of the place as she stood in the foyer. The home of the former Eshiya Touga felt like a place only just now coming to life, after existing as a cold and barren husk for a long, long time. Aya tilted her head, considering; Eshiya's earlier works had somewhat matched her tastes, reverberating as they did with the man's loneliness. However, she could never quite appreciate the bitter _longing_ for human connection that many of his critics and admirers alike saw only as the man's effort to cut himself off from a world he considered hateful. After finding some measure of that longed-for human contact from his wife and daughter, Eshiya became a lost cause as an artist, so far as Aya was concerned.

A pity, really. But did not Yako have something to do with…?

"…Aya-san? Would you like some tea?"

Aya smiled cheerfully at the girl, who was looking at her with a worried (or was it nervous?) expression. "Tea would be wonderful."

A few minutes later, sitting in the gleaming, rarely-used kitchen with respective steaming cups of sen-cha and a plate of mochi between them, Aya and Yako regarded each other across a narrow table Aya suspected was intended to be used as extra counter-space rather than a dining surface.

"This is going to sound like a really strange request, Aya-san…" Yako finally said, after the silence had stretched uncomfortably. She stared into her teacup, weary and empty-eyed. It was the same expression she had greeted Aya with in the classroom, until surprise had overtaken her. In the taxi ride over to the mansion, after Yako's exclamations of disbelief over Aya's "jailbreak" and the singer's cheerful explanation how she had merely "sung my way out," the girl had laid out the bare details of her break with her assistant.

That Yako and Neuro had had a falling out came as no revelation to Aya. She was not at all surprised by the timing, either: she followed Yako's progress in the newspapers, and knew that several people the girl seemed close to, like that laconic policeman, had been killed. Yako was a sensitive, empathetic person, and to have people close to her die had exactly the opposite effect on her as it would on Aya.

The singer had suspected Neuro was something "other," inhuman even, since their first meeting. It would only follow he had no idea how to reach out to the girl when she was most vulnerable, that he would inevitably cross the line that would drive her away.

"I _did_ break out of jail to help you, Miss Detective," Aya reminded her as Yako hesitated and toyed with her teacup, "And I've had my share of strange requests."

Yako bit her lip and looked at the singer, still torn. "I want you to sing for me… to help me remember something!"

Aya raised her eyebrows. "Is that all?" she asked, surprised only by the simple nature of Yako's request.

Yako's flushed and gulped her tea. "It's… um… you see, a couple months ago, I was kidnapped by Kaitou-Sai and…"

"Oh? The newspapers said nothing about that!"

"Erm, yeah… Neuro… Neuro… rescued… me before anyone really noticed I was gone, but anyway… Sai used me to try and get to him. The way she did it was by using a modified Electronic Drug that not only made me her puppet but also made me fight like one of those people in the action movies. I want you to help me remember the Drug so I can use it again to fight Sai and the person who's controlling her." Yako peered at Aya. "Did that make any sense?"

Aya smiled. "Yes, it did, Miss Detective. You intend to fight some very dangerous people on your own, and you want my help to recreate the Drug. But I don't know if I can do that, the Electronic Drug depends just as much on computers as it does on the human brain!"

"Don't worry about the computer part," Yako assured her, a strange, almost manic, expression ghosting over her face, "I have that end pretty much covered. Although… maybe when he comes back tonight, you can sing for him, too. He needs to remember way more than I do."

"Oh?" Aya chuckled; Yako did not disappoint, she was even more interesting without a wall of glass between them! "It sounds as though you are contemplating something very serious, Miss Detective. I'll sing for you, and your friend, before I go back to jail."

"Go back?" Yako echoed, blinking owlishly, "But…"

"Prison has been good for me, Ms. Detective, and it is only a few more years," Aya admonished, shaking her finger and smirking, "It would also be terribly inconvenient to be chased around for being a fugitive."

"Oh, yeah… I guess you're right," Yako admitted awkwardly. "Still… I guess I can tell you how it all turns out when I visit you next?"

"Yes, I would like that." _'It's a shame that I will really be alone when you are gone.'_

The conversation drifted to other topics, and Aya wondered if she ought to tell Yako that her assistant had only just yesterday made a similar, albeit impossible request: a song to help him understand humans…

* * *

_Variation 6_

"… What the fu- AUGH!" Godai's question was interrupted as Neuro nearly twisted his left arm out of its socket, casing him to drop his satchel, papers spilling over the floor. He fell to his knees, trying not to cry.

"Slave Number One, not only are you tardy in bringing the requested information, but you failed to procure a replacement slave for me, causing _me_ to _personally_ seek one out," Neuro informed him with a cold sneer. As he was currently grinding Godai's face into the floor with his heel, the otherwise unfortunate man missed the dangerous gleam in the daemon's eyes that has been known to cause near-instantaneous nervous collapse in even the most determined criminal.

"Um, N-N-Neuro-san… do I _have _to wear this?"

Neuro whirled from his current victim, and, in the same continuous movement, seized Godai's satchel and threw it with a pro-league pitcher's strength and accuracy into the face of the impudent questioner. Said questioner's short blonde wig went flying on impact, while the rest of the unfortunate victim's vector was interrupted by the very sturdy bulk of Troy.

"The louse will wear that without question unless the louse wants to get crushed again," Neuro answered cheerfully, apparently under the belief that "hitting with a piece of luggage" did not fall under the category of "crushing." "Now, put that wig back on."

The "louse" groaned in a despairing tone of unquestioning surrender and moved painfully to reclaim the wig. Godai, who had watched this tableaux play out from his vantage point on the floor, _almost_ felt sorry for the monster's new plaything. _'Making a guy dress up in a schoolgirl's uniform – HER uniform. That's a whole new level of twisted.'_ He eyed the skinny, nearly androgynous newcomer. _'Not that he even really looks like a guy to begin with. His fault for being a pretty-boy and catching the monster's eye… waaaaaaaiiiitamin-'_

Godai was spared any further mind-scarring speculation about Neuro's sexual orientation (Godai's brain could be a scary place sometimes, and he did not always have control over whatever dark and dangerous alleys it might wander) by Neuro "helpfully" dragging him upright by the top of his skull.

"You're still here, Slave Number One?" he asked, playfully inquisitive, "Perhaps you'd like to…"

"No way!" Godai shouted, tearing himself out of Neuro's grip (leaving a few inconsequential patches of hair behind in the process) and sprinting out of the office so quickly, the door slammed shut by the time he reached the bottom of the stairwell.

Once he achieved the (relative) safety of three Tokyo city blocks between himself and the monster, Godai slowed down, gasping for air, loudly declaiming the Universe in terms most foul (to the consternation of passers-by) over the injustice of still holding the title "Slave Number One."

The person who called himself Tsushima Shūji (heretofore known as "louse" or "pretty-boy") gaped at the rapidity of Godai's departure until he noticed Neuro staring at him with a gleeful smile. "Uh, w-w-wha…?"

Neuro added shark teeth to the grin. "We're going to find Sicks now, louse. Get to work."

"O-of course. Happy to help!"

Neuro watched his new acquisition flail about in a manner predicated to appear terrified and feckless. He had not let his guard down once, not even during Godai's interruption; the ex-yakuza had had no idea how closely he had come to dying, if it had not been for Neuro's timely intervention.

_'Keep up the charade for however much longer you intend, XI,'_ he thought, watching his enemy play at being human to fool him, _'You know, and I know, that you'll have to bring me to Sicks eventually.'_

XI, fully aware of Neuro's thoughts, registered something akin to Sai's old manic glee. _'When Papa calls for me, we'll go…'

* * *

_

**A/N:** Apologies for the lack of update - I have been occupied with my primary project for the last couple of weeks (among other things), not to mention I wanted to see how much more of the canon storyline I could incorporate into this fic. The answer is: not much, but given events in the latest chapter, I need to get a move-on, or my denouement will seem plagiarized. I hope to update again before too long.

Thanks for reading!


End file.
